Less Than We Were
by DarkHorseBlueSky
Summary: Five kids, five factions, and how they lost it all. ABANDONED
1. Nowhere (1:1)

**A/N: I'm not sure what this is.**

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"You're factionless."

The two words seemed to spin around Vera Ushakov's head without ever entering, and for the longest time she simply stared at her blue-clad assistant. She felt her hands clutch around the arms of her chair, and dimly registered that she was shaking.

"You're lying," the words left her lips numbly, without her consent.

The assistant closed her eyes and took a long breath out. "The results looked as if you'd come out Erudite, but there's…there's something not right about it, at the same time. The analysis says you're divided — you're trying to find the truth and the fact all at once and you try to make them match, but you don't have the capacity on your own to reach any conclusions."

Vera tried to inhale, but the air got caught on the lump in her throat. "It sounds an awful lot like Divergent."

"It's not." The woman met her eyes, brown on black. "Fortunately, it's nothing like Divergent. Instead of meeting the requirements of several or all factions, you fail to meet the requirements of any of them. Not humble enough for Abnegation, too logical for Dauntless, not peaceful enough for Amity and you're lying to yourself right now — not Candor, no. The closest you came to success was Erudite, but you're too distracted to think. You'll have to work on that if you're going to survive."

The words were empty. Soulless. Just blatant, stark truth. Vera had grown up with the hard truth and yet, today, she couldn't believe it.

She wouldn't.

Without a word she stood up and walked out the door.


	2. Can't (1:2)

**A/N: So apparently people like this fic.**

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"Dauntless," Ravi watched the man's face freeze. "I got Dauntless. Happy?"

Dr. Rohan Talwar set down his wineglass, folded his hands, and met Ravi's eyes. Twenty feet of silence and unoccupied seats at the long dining table sat stale between them and Ravi wanted suddenly to go back to his food.

"No," replied Rohan finally, his voice cold. "I'm not."

The sixteen-year-old tried picking up his fork and knives again, but his hands wouldn't move to his plate. He slammed them down with enough force to make the table shake.

"This isn't your decision, _Father," _he said.

"The Talwar family has been Erudite ever since the factions were established. I am _not _going to let you, my only son, leave our legacy hanging — "

"I don't belong here, Father. I don't belong anywhere."

Rohan went silent for once, even when Ravi picked up his fork with his left hand and stabbed a piece of broccoli.

"Test results were negative for every faction except Dauntless, barely half a point there. So either you remember me as your wayward Dauntless son or your Factionless heir, pick your freaking poison."

"I'm not letting you leave Erudite and that is _final, _Ravi."

"Fine. But I can guarantee you that the second they realize I don't have an intelligent bone in my body, I'll be where I'm supposed to be. On the streets."

And even though it was a stupid move, he added, "Like Mom."

The silence was stone in the Talwar dining hall that night.


	3. Shouldn't (1:3)

**A/N: Or maybe not.**

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For once in her life, Adelaide Farran's walk home was quiet.

She felt her mother's hand shift positions on her arm, and soon after the ground beneath her feet and cane shifted from the sidewalk's concrete to her neighborhood's gravel. The scent of plain bread wafted to her nostrils after a few more steps, the soft voices of her neighbors calling out greetings.

"Adelaide," her mother said in the same gentle tone. "Adele…you haven't spoken. What's wrong?"

The taste of iron still tainted Adele's tongue from when she'd bitten her lip earlier. The sun was warm on her cheeks.

"You know," she replied, biting her lip again, "stuff."

Her mother's hand tapped her shoulder now, and she stopped. Subconsciously her foot went up and she stepped across the threshold then, touching the firmness of concrete again. Her father's soap-scent touched her nose but the house echoed empty — no one else was home, and wouldn't be for a long time. Dad had probably just left.

Her mother's hand left her arm and Adele sat down at the table, still saying nothing. Out came the bread and cheese, from the sound of the cabinet, and her mother sat down across from her.

"Adele," she barely whispered, "I know what it feels like to not belong."

"If it had said Candor," Adele blurted, her voice wavering, "maybe I wouldn't feel so — so weird about this. I wanna go, but…"

She heard the squeak of her mother's chair, and then her fingers brush a wisp of her hair behind her ear. "You don't have to stay. This is your choice, Adelaide."

Adele said nothing.

_But I don't want to leave._


	4. Anywhere (1:4)

**A/N: I actually haven't read Divergent I just watched the movies and skimmed the books like 2 years ago. I don't remember much and I don't even know why I'm writing this fic.  
**

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Alexander D'Cruz dipped his fingers into the jar of gold paint, carefully dabbed his initials into the bottom right corner of the painting, and put the small jar away for the last time.

His last artwork. The entire night's bane — already, the faintest rosy fingertips of dawn were beginning to reach across the sky — but worth every stroke. He'd saved this canvas for as long as he could remember in the dream that he'd be able to put his mind onto it and tonight, he had.

Because he wouldn't be here tomorrow to finish it. Tomorrow, he would not have the time to finish anything of his own.

He turned as the door creaked open. Aunt Suzy, still in her nightclothes and holding a cup of her favorite tea, stepped in. "Couldn't sleep?"

Slowly, Xander wiped his fingers on his rag and shrugged. "Just didn't. I wanted to do something before I go tomorrow."

Aunt Suzy's dark eyes — just like his, just like his dad's — wavered in awe over the mural. The border was painted like a window with four panes, except that in each was a different faction — the blue spires of Erudite, the monochrome courtrooms of Candor, the shadowy warehouses of Dauntless, and the pale living blocks of Abnegation. A boy with dark red hair and an orange shirt stood before them, with yellow wheat stalks around his ankles. In his hand was a paintbrush, dripping gold onto an Abnegation roof — and in the corner were the initials _A.D'C._

Susana D'Cruz looked back down at the boy in the wheelchair, with paint of a dozen colors splattered across his brown clothes. He'd fallen asleep while she had been looking at the painting, so fast that he hadn't even put down his paint rag.

"You're gonna help a lot of people, Alejandro," she whispered. And carefully, so as not to wake him, Aunt Suzy kissed his forehead, lifted her Divergent nephew out of his chair, and laid him on his bed to rest before his time.


	5. Won't (1:5)

**A/N: Eh.**

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The wind ripped through Axel's short tight coils of hair and stung her face with the early morning chill, making her grit her teeth. "Hey, Amani!" shouted a grating voice behind her, near the back of the train car. "Stiff! Gettin' ready to jump now or what?"

Even without turning around she knew who it was, and flipped him the bird before leading her attention back to the — admittedly unimpressive — scenery. From their altitude she swore she could see the glimmering emerald fields beyond the concrete castles in the city, like a beacon of hope lit just for her. And for a second she kinda wished she could do it, just jump — not to fall, but to fly. To just take a single leap into the unknown, away from Vris, from Eri, from Dauntless entirely. And just…fly.

_And I'm gonna do it, _she told herself, clenching her fists. _I'm gettin' outta here. And I'll be free._

Around her, her friends (and enemies) began to shuffle around. Jump zone was in sight. And just like that, Eri pushed her to the side and was the first to leap — landing perfectly on his polished leather boots.

Axel, on the other hand, landed in a clumsy roll, and Eri smirked. She flipped him the bird again and joined the line where the other Dauntless-born waited to be admitted. It wasn't very long — she'd taken an early train, at the word of her parents.

Her parents.

She wondered how pissed they'd be when they found out she wasn't sticking with her aptitude test. Or how pissed _Val _would be when she found out that she wouldn't be able to beat her up ever again.

_Very, _probably.

Axel found a seat in the furthest corner and smiled at herself.


	6. From Candor (2:1)

**A/N: Less than happy with this chapter but ok.**

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Vera felt as if she was dead.

Her heart had ceased to beat; her tongue was a metal weight in her mouth; her hands were cold even to each other. Her mother's borrowed shoes hurt as she walked but she couldn't feel the pain. As her mother and father hugged her before letting her go to her seat, she felt as if she was in some sort of dream, and barely lifted her arms to return the embrace.

The opening ceremonies were a blur of static with the sound turned off. Her breath was hot against her lips; her fingers wet with perspiration. The bowls stared her down like the eyes of Hades' judges. The children, filing one by one and dripping their blood into their futures, dissolved into mere specters as they took their seats. And then —

"_Vera Ushakov."_

Her heart went cold. As she accepted her knife her fingers trembled, and when she put it to her patchy skin its path was jagged.

The blade's descent on the floor echoed throughout the hall, just like the bittersweet _plink _of blood in water.

"Erudite," said a voice that she could not hear. Vera's wet eyes met her brother's.


End file.
